


residue

by sirenofodysseus



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Acolyte friendships, F/M, H/C bingo, Needles/Piercings, Past Drug Use, Tattoos, The Blake Association (The Mentalist), Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 12:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14261310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenofodysseus/pseuds/sirenofodysseus
Summary: ‘“This isn’t all about the tattoo, is it?” O’Laughlin said nothing, which confirmed her suspicion. It wasn’t about the tattoo at all. “You don’t like needles, do you?”Quietly, she heard him tell her not to laugh.’





	residue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fulfilling my H/C bingo prompt of needles/piercings, but definitely putting a lot more comfort between O'Laughlin and Lorelei than I had originally intended. This piece doesn't really have a timeline location, aside from probably being before S3. 
> 
> As usual, I own nothing aside from my love of Lorelei Martins and Craig O'Laughlin.

Lorelei studied O’Laughlin’s incredulous expression from her couch, as he continued to pace back-and-front before her. He had yet to say anything of value to her, aside from his initial greeting of _hello_ nearly twenty minutes ago – and his pacing had begun to give her a headache.

 

“Do you actually plan on using your words today,” Lorelei asked coolly, which forced the brunette to glance at her. “Or are you just going to keep pacing until I’m forced to stab you?” O’Laughlin blinked and she frowned. She’d known Craig O’Laughlin for almost five years and in the span of their acquaintance, she’d never seen him so emotional. He’d also never stopped by her apartment in the middle of the day, either. “I’m going to take a stab in the dark. You met with Him today and in turn, he suggested something completely outlandish.” The He, of course, was none other than Red John; one of California’s most infamous serial killers. O’Laughlin still said nothing, but the overwhelming stench of goat and California countryside told her he’d definitely just come from _some_ meeting with the serial killer.

 

“He wants us all to get tattoos,” O’Laughlin replied after nearly another ten minutes of frantic pacing.

 

Lorelei blinked. He was in her apartment, frantically pacing, all because of a conversation involving body art? “Tattoos?”

 

“Tattoos.” She sighed and moved to sip at her mug of coffee, suddenly less interested in O’Laughlin’s presence. Since Red John’s decision to go from _just a serial killer_ with a wide network of friends to the head of an intricate group of dirty cops in California’s dark underbelly, the Blake Association, the man’s suggestions had been getting wilder by the day.

 

“At least he’s off Carter’s suggestion of kidnapping any of the wonder bunch,” Lorelei answered with a shrug. She had tried to dissuade Carter from pitching the idea, but he had basically told her to go fuck herself before the summoning. O’Laughlin stared at her as if she were serious. “I didn’t say tattoos were an optimal suggestion, O’Laughlin.”

 

“He wants a tattoo of his smiley face.”

 

Lorelei shrugged again. “I mean this in the kindest way possible, but he _is_ a megalomaniac. Of course, he’d want his calling cards on our body.” Although she understood his reasoning, she still frowned at the thought. How would she explain to future lovers, outside the association, why she had the symbol of Red John tattooed on her person? She bit her bottom lip. She supposed she could always cite her obsession to serial killers, so maybe it wouldn’t look that weird.

 

Right? Right.

 

“I can’t be expected to have sex with the same eight women my entire life,” O’Laughlin prattled on, while Lorelei continued to silently ponder the implications of a tattoo. “If I did have sex with an outsider, they might be led to believing I want to _bed_ Red John.” The acolyte visibly shuddered, before he plopped down next to Lorelei on the couch. Lorelei glanced at him, unnervingly.

 

Aside from the visible shuddering, Lorelei realized, O’Laughlin had started to fidget. Something, she had _never_ seen him do before. She tried to keep her expression neutral, as she continued to survey him. “This isn’t all about the tattoo, is it?” O’Laughlin said nothing, which confirmed her suspicion. It wasn’t about the tattoo at all. “You don’t like needles, do you?”

 

Quietly, she heard him tell her not to laugh.

 

“Why do you think I’d laugh?” Lorelei asked and O’Laughlin glanced at her again. So, she had laughed at him, once or twice, when they had first attempted to be sexual. But she didn’t think that set a basis for judgement. “I’m sure the fear of needles is perfectly natural.”

 

“Not to a serial killer.”

 

O’Laughlin, Lorelei decided, probably wasn’t wrong.

 

“If he knew my bitter protest against his tattoo was out of a phobia, he’d have every inch of me pierced or inked.” Lorelei opened her mouth to argue when again, she realized, he wasn’t wrong. She’d heard from Dumar, once, that Rebecca had joined Red John with a phobia of blood until _supposedly_ , Red John had forced her to bathe in nothing but warm blood for almost a week. “I know I have no right to ask for a favor, but he likes you. Can you talk him down?”

 

Lorelei said nothing. Not because she was heartless to O’Laughlin’s predicament, but because she couldn’t exactly understand his fear of needles. Over the years of them fooling around, she had seen the multiple sets of track marks on his arms but she had never once asked him about them. Hearing his request, however, Lorelei wanted to know how a man – so comfortable with once using drugs – had gone from fearless to fearful. The highly personal question was on the tip of her tongue to be asked, when O’Laughlin replied quietly,

 

“I didn’t like who they made me become.”

 

Lorelei glanced downwards, lost for words at his highly personal truth, before she placed her hand over his in unspoken sympathy.

 

He offered her a small smile and in response, she finally said, “I’ll try, but I make no promises.”  

 

(A few weeks later, everyone aside from Lorelei and O’Laughlin, had three horizontal dots inked on their left shoulder.)


End file.
